


Visiting The Ward

by MusicLover19



Series: Christmas Tales [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Child Ward, Gen, Hospitals, Long Term Ward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicLover19/pseuds/MusicLover19
Summary: Every year, Stiles spends his Christmas visiting the hospital and giving out gifts. He had done it since his mother had passed away, and this was the first year he wasn't alone.





	Visiting The Ward

**Author's Note:**

> The last of my Christmas stories - most of which were surprisingly angsty, which might say more about my mental state at the moment than I'd like to admit.
> 
> I hope everyone has a great holiday, or even a great couple of days if you don't celebrate. Take care of yourself and spoil yourself a little.

“Your dad isn’t home? It’s Christmas Eve,” Peter pointed out. His questions were always less than questions, more like statements posed in a way that you can deny them.

“He tends to do the Christmas shifts, it means the other deputies can go home and be with their family. He’s done it for years really.”

Stiles could almost see the question on Peter’s face, but the man didn’t say anything. Just like he hadn’t acknowledged the bare house, there wasn’t a hint of Christmas beyond the soft music winding through the house.

“I’m not a Christmas fan,” Stiles offered the information up. “We haven’t celebrated in a long time, and it’s not something I really care about,” Stiles shrugged. Stiles knew his heart had skipped over that last statement, but he hoped that Peter wouldn’t point it out. He did like Christmas, he loved the music, the joy in the air, the magic happening all around in the children - yet, he couldn’t get into the spirit completely. So he did his best with what he could. He and his dad still got each other a present, but there wasn’t the finesse or the paper or the glitter involved. It was just a part of their life, a typical day with just a bit more appreciation of each other. Typically they would spend the day together at the station after Stiles had gone through his other errands for the day. They would normally order something greasy - ignoring his dad’s health just for the day and exchange their presents. It was never more than one, neither wanting to get too involved in the holiday.

Peter watched Stiles carefully, there was an air of desperation which made him refine from voicing his thoughts. Stiles was more withdrawn than normal, shuffling his body away from Peter unconsciously and fiddling with his sweater.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Peter said slowly, he hadn’t intended to bring it up, but it felt right. If anything, to get it off his own chest.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Stiles huffed. “What for?” he added, unsure of just what Peter might thank him for, there wasn’t much Stiles had done.

“I remember you,” Peter said quietly. “It was years ago, it wasn’t clear, to be honest, it’s only recently that I placed the scent. I don’t remember the cards, but I remember _you_.”

Stiles smiled as he recalled his yearly trips and wasn’t too shocked, but he had never thought Peter would have brought it up. Stiles hadn’t thought too much of it at the time, not even when Derek revealed Peter as the bad guy. It wasn’t until the next Christmas that Stiles went to the hospital and stumbled across the empty room that had once held one of his favourite people to visit.

The first year, Stiles had appeared, his heart running wild, and breath coming in rushed pants. Peter hadn’t been aware the first time Stiles appeared, he didn’t hear the hushed apologies where Stiles explained that his mother was acting strange, all he could take note of was the scent of the person and how it wasn’t the normal women that took care of him. The scent of the young boy became familiar and soon, the off word would make itself known to Peter, he wasn’t able to pick up the whole sentences, the sounds washing over him, but he did catch some words each time the boy visited. It was gradual that Peter became more aware of his surroundings, the brightness around him dimming into different colours as the sounds diluted and differed from the typical hum. Peter didn’t know how long it had been before he caught next visit.

_“Hey Peter, I can’t stay long but I wanted to stop by. Sandy says you’ve still not had any visitors, and I’m sorry I haven’t been around since last year, my dad’s been busy at work and school got a little crazy,”_ Peter had heard Stiles’ body slump in the seat in his room. He didn’t recall anyone else, but this child sitting in that seat. It was _his_ , and Peter didn’t even recall the kid's name. _“I got you a card again, like every year. If you wake up soon enough, I can get you a proper present. I got Lucy one, she woke up a few months ago, Sandy let me know. Told me that Lucy couldn’t stop talking about her favourite sandwich and how she missed it, so I made sure to get one for her and some chocolates. She was a little confused but I explained it and she had the biggest smile I can ever remember.”_

Stiles hadn’t stayed long, apologising that he had more people to visit as well as Peter, but he had promised to say goodbye on his way out.

The following years continued in the same manner, Stiles would come, typically with a card - though Peter never got to see them. Stiles would ask Peter to wake up for his next visit so he could get a proper present. By the time Peter _had_ woken up, he was gone before Christmas, before his visitor had been able to fulfil that promise of a present, and before Peter had learnt the child’s name. He hadn’t connected the dots, Stiles’ scent had changed, even if it still had that same undertone, Peter wasn’t mentally aware enough to link the puzzle pieces, not until he had come back from the dead, and even then, he had been scared to acknowledge such a venerable time. He didn’t want to think that the boy who helped kill him was the only one to be kind enough to care about him.

“I only remember a few visits but you were comfortable enough that you must have come more,” Peter said slowly. There was a flash of recognition in the teen's eyes.

“If you are talking about what I think you are - don’t worry. It was nothing,” Stiles flushed. He hadn’t thought anything of his trips, knowing that there were so many people in the wards that were almost forgotten. “I - when my mom was sick, she wasn’t always alright with visitors so I would wander a little. You weren’t too far away from her room, I ended up there a few times,” Stiles frowned as he remembered how bare Peter’s room had been when he had first stumbled in. There hadn’t been anything that suggested there was a person there - except the person. So Stiles did what he did best, he rambled about why he had been there, apologising and asking Peter questions that he knew he wouldn’t get answers to.

“You were there at Christmas,” Peter pointed out, but there was more of a questioning tone under his words.

“Christmas and Easter, when I can,” Stiles agreed. “Easter is more for the kids though, Christmas is just - I stop by the kids, but it’s for the long-term patients as well,” Stiles admitted. “They were my sanctuary and so many of them don’t get visitors,” the _like you_ went unsaid, but Peter heard it loud and clear.

“Do you still do it?” Peter asked, unable to help himself.

Stiles just nodded. He had a few wrapped up toys for the children, and a whole stack of hand-made cards to hand out to the adults as well as a few boxes of chocolates. It made him feel better, knowing that they weren’t left alone, that they were _happy._

* * *

“Stiles,” Sandy sighed. “You know I get into trouble for letting _you_ in, now you’re asking for a complete stranger?”

“You know you can trust me, he’s just my carrier,” Stiles promised. Normally he’d make a few journeys down to his car and then back into the hospital, but Peter had insisted. “At least things will be quicker today,” Stiles offered.

Sandy just sighed and waved Stiles in, with Peter following dutifully. Peter spent the day watching, almost in awe as Stiles made his way to the children first. They all perked up when they saw him, their grins growing and a few even wriggling out of their bed to meet him in the middle of the room. It was effortless, and Peter envied the teen for it. The children all laughed and thanked Stiles with pure excitement when they received their gifts. Stiles had already told him that each child got a teddy bear with a small packet of chocolate or sweets since he couldn’t spoil them too much. Even the parents that stayed overnight with their children thanked Stiles with watery smiles as they watched their children glow.

The long-term care ward was different. Peter had stopped, unaware that his feet had paused in their steps. It was suffocating, the sickly scents surrounding him, that were so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. It was overwhelming. He had spent so many years inside of these walls, and - Stiles’ hand slipped in his own, their fingers lacing as the teen led him through the halls and away from his own room. The further they got from his room, the clearer the air seemed to become.

“That’s it creeper wolf, just keep walking, we can leave if you want? Or you can wait here while I deliver everything. It’s alright,” Stiles was mumbling, just soft enough that Peter had to focus. He gave Stiles’ hand a squeeze, noticing the smile on the teens face. He didn’t say anything, but Stiles understood anyway. He led them into the first room, talking gently to the lady who was in her coma. He sat in the chair, as he had done with Peter. He spoke, telling her that he had gotten her a card, and he took care to open the card and read it out to her before placing it on the table by the bed. She wouldn’t see it, just as Peter hadn’t seen his, but Stiles was offering hope on the smallest chance that the people around him were still aware of their surroundings, and Peter adored the teen for it.

The first man they came across was awake, and Peter got to see how Stiles would have responded to him if he had stayed at the hospital.

“Robert, hi, I don’t know if you can remember me,” Stiles said with a smile. “I’m Stiles, I’ve visited you a few times, but you were still unresponsive. Sandy, one of your nurses, she said that you liked the cheese they served, is that right?”

The man nodded, seemingly still unsure of the teen.

“That’s good, I got you a present, for Christmas, if you’d like it?” Stiles offered, he turned to get the present from Peter and slowly stepped forward and placed it on the bed by the man. “It isn’t much, but I didn’t want to just get you a card this year.”

“You - the c’rds?”

Stiles nodded, understanding with ease. It was strange to see Stiles so calm.

“I made you one every year, I don’t know if they saved them all. Do you want help opening the present?” Stiles asked.

Peter let himself blend into the background as the man nodded, raising his hands with difficulty as Stiles moved forward again, moving the present closer. He helped the man pull the wrapping paper from the gift. The man grinned at the cheese board, and Stiles made sure to tell him that Sandy would make sure he got to taste them all, but it wasn’t a good idea to do that now. He said his goodbyes, and Stiles led Peter back from the room, a smile still on his face.

“Sandy gets a list of all the gifts,” Stiles explained. “We brainstorm what would be better for everyone, and she will tell me if something is too much for them or against hospital wishes. I don’t want to trigger any allergic reactions or hurt anyone’s health.”

Peter just let Stiles lead the way, even back towards his old room. Managing to steady himself, Peter didn’t react badly again, he focused on Stiles, and stayed out of his old room when the teen darted inside to speak to the newest addition to the ward.

“You did great,” Stiles said, leaning back into Peter’s passenger seat. “You didn’t need to do this though,” he said again, having said it several times through the day.

“You shouldn’t have been alone,” Peter just replied, already setting off towards the station for Stiles to meet his dad.

“Thank you,” Stiles said quietly. He hadn’t spent a full Christmas day with anyone since his mother had died - even before then. It had been a Christmas day that Stiles had snuck away from his mom’s room, to talk to a few other patients, unable to face his mother’s wrath on what was meant to be a good day. It had been the start of his newest tradition.

The rest of the ride was silent, Stiles didn’t say anything, and neither did Peter. There wasn’t a need to.

“Look,” Stiles said, once they had come to a stop outside of the station. “I feel bad that I didn’t get to -”

“Don’t,” Peter interrupted.

“Do you want to come with me for Easter? It’s just an Easter egg for the children each, it’s fun,” Stiles offered.

“It’s a date,” Peter nodded.

“A date,” Stiles agreed. He thanked Peter once more, climbing out of the car.

“Stiles, you forgot one,” Peter called after him.

“Nope,” Stiles laughed. “Merry Christmas Peter!”

Stiles almost skipped to the door, ready to give his last present to his dad. They’d probably have Chinese tonight, Stiles fielding any possible calls that came up. It’d be a late night, and when Stiles finally moved to collapse into his bed, he’d fall on a wrapped present he wouldn’t expect. A wrapped flannel jacket, one that was overpriced, with a card tucked into the wrapping.

**_Dinner next week?_ **


End file.
